Later that evening
Ariel and Raymond sat quietly at the small dining table, waiting for the Queen Dowager to join them for the meal.
The air was cool after the rainfall, yet for Raymond it still felt like a suffocating summer night. His chest was heavy, his thoughts restless. The events that had unfolded earlier that day had shaken him deeply—he had never expected such schemes to surface so soon.
That morning, he had left the palace to make preparations for the upcoming Bridal Selection competition event, scheduled to take place in his fief within a few weeks. He had imagined the day would be routine, filled with logistics and planning. Instead, in his absence, shadows had moved.
Devious plots had taken root. It was clear now: those bastards were hellbent on forcing their chosen candidate into the throne, determined to crown their own future Queen no matter the cost.
Which meant one thing—Ariel was in constant danger from this moment forward.
It wasn't that Raymond doubted Ariel's ability to protect herself. The woman was the leader of a highly skilled and proficient organization—one so formidable that even the Sect could not rival it. At best, they were only on par with the Dragon's battalion.
Ariel was not someone to be trifled with, especially after the way she had handled the earlier incident. Her strength was undeniable.
What troubled Raymond was not her capability, but the danger of discovery. If their plans were exposed, the consequences would be catastrophic.
The Sect was orchestrating this scheme without the knowledge of the Scorpion King. Though the Sect was infamous for its ruthless dealings and notorious acts—and known as the Dragon's greatest enemy—it was still no match for the Scorpion Kings.
The Scorpion Kings were the true threat. To the Dragon. To the kingdom. To the world.
Their network was vast, sprawling across continents, filled with powerful figures consumed by unquenchable greed. They would do anything to maintain their grip on power, driven by ambition for the godly seat—the throne of ultimate dominion.
The Sect had allied with them only to advance its own selfish ambitions. But betrayal of the Scorpion Kings meant total annihilation—swift, merciless, absolute.
And that was what Raymond feared most, that the Scorpion Kings would uncover their plans… and destroy everything.
Raymond's eyes lingered on Ariel. Her expression remained unfazed as she casually scrolled through her tablet, reading the latest comments about the spectacle that had unfolded earlier that morning. Calm, composed, almost indifferent—it was clear she was prepared for anything.
It made him wonder just how powerful her organization truly was. How powerful she truly was. Could she stand against the Scorpion Kings themselves… and annihilate them?
One thing was certain.
He was going to find out soon.
Just then, the door opened. A servant stepped inside, bowing low in greeting.
"Good evening, Lord Fortmore and Lady Ariel. I bring a message from the Queen Dowager. Unfortunately, she will not be joining you for dinner tonight. She is preparing for her journey to the fief of Fortshire tomorrow. Her Majesty will travel ahead to oversee the preparations for the first event of the competition,but she has invited Lord Fortmore and Lady Ariel to accompany her—if you are willing."
Raymond glanced at Ariel. She had set the tablet aside and now fixed her gaze on the servant. Then, with a sigh, she turned to him.
"You can go ahead, Father. I'm sure the Queen Dowager wishes to discuss matters with you regarding the Bridal Selection event in our fief. It's wise to prepare everything properly and on time. I, however, still have things to take care of here before joining you the day after tomorrow. Besides, with the scandal still swirling, it wouldn't be wise for me to travel ahead. It could stir unnecessary trouble—and that's the last thing we need right now."
Raymond nodded. "Of course. That's fine."
He turned to the servant. "Tell Her Majesty that we appreciate the offer, but my daughter and I will join the festivities with everyone else the day after tomorrow. Please wish her a safe journey."
Ariel whipped her head toward him, one eyebrow raised in surprise at his reply. Raymond met her gaze briefly, offering a small, knowing smile, before returning his attention to the servant.
"Please tell her that," he added firmly.
The servant bowed. "As you wish, Lord Fortmore. I will inform the Queen Dowager of your decision. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll instruct the other servants to serve the food. Have a pleasant evening."
With that, he turned and left the room.
Ariel rolled her eyes as soon as the servant left the room. "You know… you could've gone ahead with the Queen Dowager, Father. I'm sure her invitation means she wants to help us prepare for the first stage of the competition. To give us leverage. You don't need to stay here with me. It wouldn't be a problem if you went ahead—but with me, it's a different story."
Raymond exhaled slowly. "I wouldn't be much of a father if I abandoned you in the middle of this spectacle. Besides, knowing you, you might do something reckless that would drag you into more trouble if I left you behind. I can't risk that."
Ariel snorted. "Reckless? Really, Father? You still don't trust me after all this time? Unbelievable."
Raymond's gaze hardened. "Yes, I still don't fully trust you. With the way things are unfolding, you might be forced into something drastic, something reckless, that could expose us. I can't take that chance. No way."
Ariel leaned forward, her eyes flashing. "Well… what you call drastic and reckless, I call a saving maneuver from the jaws of destruction. Can you imagine what would've happened if I hadn't acted? Everything would've drowned in chaos. Those people are ruthless—they'll do absolutely anything to destroy me, to destroy us. They don't need soft tactics. They need the very maneuvers you call reckless. This is a dog-eat-dog world, Father. A survival game. Kill or be killed. I thought you understood that better than me. Isn't that the reason you made me participate in this competition in the first place?"
Raymond sighed. "I know this competition is a bloody war. A kill-or-be-killed zone. But Ariel… you must understand, we have a great deal at stake here. If you act simply because you know how, without weighing the costs, everything could be exposed in ways you cannot imagine. Besides, the Queen Dowager—and perhaps even the King—would have found a way to get you out of that mess one way or another."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Remember, despite being in this competition, you are standing in both the Dragon's and the Scorpion King's territory. We cannot risk either of them discovering us. If they do, your saving maneuvers might not be enough to pull us out. So be careful."
Ariel's eyes locked onto his, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Have you ever wondered if the one they should fear… is me? Not the other way around. Let me remind you, Father—this woman defied death when it tried to claim her. Like a vulture, she rose from bones and ash, ready to devour the enemies who once destroyed her. And she will not rest until their lifeless bodies are scattered before her and around her as her main gourmet meal. Right now, I am enjoying this game of cat and mouse—keeping them on edge until I finally catch them in my jaws. So don't ever make the mistake of underestimating me, Father. Never."
Raymond swallowed under her piercing gaze. Ariel's lips curved briefly into a smile before she turned away, dismissing him with effortless confidence.
It was clear now—she was the greater predator.
And Raymond wondered, truly, how powerful his daughter was. Could she take on both the Dragon and the Scorpion King? Had he been underestimating her all this time? Perhaps she was far more formidable than he had ever imagined.
Either way, he knew he must tread carefully. If Ariel discovered his involvement with the Sect, everything could collapse faster than expected.
His thoughts were interrupted as the servants entered, carrying trays of food.
Dinner was served. Father and daughter ate in silence.
But the tension between them spoke volumes—an unspoken battle neither was ready to confront.
At least, not yet.
....
Meanwhile, in Daniel's study…
Daniel sat at his desk, eyes closed, the faint glow of his tablet illuminating the room beside a half‑finished glass of brandy.
On the screen, footage replayed from the hallway near the archway leading to the palace gardens—the very place where Ariel and that imposter claimed they had been kidnapped in the wake of the scandal.
Beside the tablet lay a folded note Ariel had given him earlier, instructing him to deliver the book of Bridal Selection competition rules to the Queen Dowager.
Her words from their earlier conversation echoed in his mind:
"I knew it was a trap. I wanted to run the moment we reached the bend. But before we got there—near the hidden archway leading to the outer garden—we were seized by unknown figures dressed in… some kind of ninja combat attire."
"They covered my mouth and must have given me a sleeping sedative. Because the next thing I remember… I woke up in the Queen Dowager's study. On the desk was the book of royal selection rules. Ah and this note."
"Mmm… I am sorry, but my memory is a little fuzzy. I do remember that the one who grabbed me had small, round eyes—like someone of Asian descent. He was wearing a black outfit… maybe with some gold or yellow. I don't know. I'm sorry, Your Highness, but my memory is groggy, so I really can't be certain."
Another memory surfaced....
"I... I... was cleaning the upper floor restrooms in the central wing where the guests were required to attend. And I saw that one of the doors of the restrooms was locked. It was in the females' restrooms. I tried to unlock it, but it wouldn't budge. I knocked and asked if someone was inside, but it couldn't be—since everyone was asked to vacate the floor and the guards were already swarming the place. So I peeped through and saw that the window was open and there was a tiny rope dangling in the air outside. Then I saw a shadow creeping through the window into the cubicle. And I saw their back, and they had a gun holster around their waist. I quickly moved from the door and ducked into the other cubicle so I wouldn't be seen. Soon after, the door opened and the person inside started moving out of the restroom. I peered through the door and saw them heading out to the other side."
"It... it... was... her... it was her... the... lady... the lady... in pink. The one... who... had gathered the attention at the masquerade ball... the beautiful, mysterious lady in pink! Forgive me, Your Highness... I should've spoken sooner..."
He remembered the confession of that gangster that was found dead near his study.
Daniel's jaw tightened as the confession haunted him.
"The bloody gangster was murdered the day after he confessed to seeing you snooping around the time the royal archives were intruded. That filthy wretch, and that other bloody who knows who, also died after being entangled in scandal with you, my dear Flamingo. Why is it that anyone who crosses you ends up humiliated… or fucking dead?"
His voice was low, bitter, as he muttered with his eyes still closed. "Who are you really, Flamingo?"
Silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating, until a faint whisper broke through his thoughts:
"Is he going to keep on being like this… ignoring us, as if we don't exist?"
"Like I said before… that's our Prince for you. Always unpredictable. You never know what he'll do next."
"You mean like how I'll repeat what happened to you earlier if you keep bickering like idiots," Daniel muttered, opening his eyes slowly to glare at Blake, Sam, and Stinger standing opposite him.
"This time, all your bones will be broken for sure." His eyes flashed crimson briefly, the threat unmistakable.
The three men cleared their throats awkwardly, quickly averting their gazes. Sam rubbed his shoulder as though recalling how close his arm had come to breaking earlier, while Blake shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his back.
"Tsk… typical," Daniel snickered before sitting upright in his chair, his gaze sweeping over them with cold precision. The weight of his stare made them shudder slightly before he exhaled loudly.
"So… what good news have you brought me this time? Hmm?"
The men exchanged uneasy glances until Sam stepped forward.
"Your Highness, I did as you requested. I investigated the identity of the imposter's body. His real name was Travis Luis Sately. He was twenty-nine years old."
Sam handed over a folder filled with papers. Daniel flipped it open as Sam continued.
"He was notorious for armed robberies and for raping teenage girls. He belonged to a gang known as the Cayotes—puppets of another known gang, the Twin Wolves. It seems the bastards were working together in their shady dealings. But one question remains: how did he get into the palace? To make matters worse, he died at the same time as the prisoners… and from the same poison."
Daniel's eyes glowed crimson as he scanned the papers. He slammed the folder shut and placed it roughly on the desk.
"Has the detailed forensic report from the royal infirmary arrived yet?" he asked.
"Not yet, Your Highness. But the doctors are working tirelessly. We may have it by tomorrow morning," Sam replied nervously.
Daniel remained silent, fingers drumming against the desk. The air grew heavy, suffocating, until the men swallowed hard under his intense crimson gaze.
Finally, he exhaled sharply. "Fine. But I want that report at first light. Or else…"
Sam swallowed again, nodding vigorously. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Good. Now scram," Daniel ordered.
"Of course," Sam bowed quickly. "Excuse me, Your Highness."
He hurried out of the room as though fleeing from a monster.
Blake sighed. "You know, you don't have to be so harsh with that guy."
He strolled toward the bar, poured himself a glass of brandy, and lounged on the couch. "He's still not used to the darker side of the job. You should take it easy on him." He sipped his drink casually.
Daniel's cold reply cut through the air. "Well, he'll have to get used to it. Since one day he'll replace you—because of your incompetence."
Cough! Cough!
Blake choked on his drink, coughing violently before regaining his composure. "Subtle. Very subtle," he muttered, glaring at Daniel's cold smirk.
"If I'm so incompetent, why don't you replace me with Stinger here? I'm sure he's more capable of being your right hand than poor, scaredy Sam." Blake's tone dripped with sarcasm as he swirled his brandy.
At the mention of his name, Stinger stiffened. "What?"
Daniel's gaze shifted, crimson eyes gleaming. "Yes, Stinger. You could take Blake's place. You're more competent than him. I bet you've already uncovered our moles and found something useful about the Fortmores, just as I instructed yesterday. If that isn't right-hand material, I don't know what is."
Stinger's blood ran cold. He turned to Blake, who smirked at him with icy amusement, brandy glass in hand. Then he turned back—only to meet Daniel's killer gaze. Crimson, merciless, promising death with a single wrong word.
Sweat trickled down his back beneath his golden-black combat attire. His throat tightened.
"Well, go ahead, Stinger. Why don't you tell us what you found out," Blake taunted, his smile sharp, his eyes glowing white like glaciers. "A good right hand man knows how to please the Boss. Right?"
'Damn… why did I have to be surrounded by both beasts today? Just my cursed luck. Sam, you're the lucky one', Stinger thought bitterly, glancing between the two predators.
He knew he had no choice. Speak or stay silent—either way, it could mean his end.
So he did the only thing he thought might spare him, at least for now.
Stinger dropped to his knees and bowed his head deeply.
"Forgive me, Your Highness. Unfortunately, I have failed you yet again. The moles have evaded Spot's radar, and our Shadow Demons are still struggling to uncover anything new about the Fortmores beyond what we already know. However… regarding the Phantom Eagles—" Stinger straightened his posture, his voice trembling but steady. "We managed to choke out another name. A highly skilled and proficient assassin. A name whispered in the streets…"
"Bailey the Mailman," Blake muttered.
Both Stinger and Daniel's heads snapped toward him.
"Yes… Bailey the Mailman," Stinger confirmed. "Word on the street is that he's a grim reaper—worse than us, the Dragonflies. They say he's unmatched in skill, hired by the higher‑ups for their dirtiest work. And he never fails."
Blake leaned forward, setting his glass on the table. "That's why my old man and Lord Palvin are so desperate to find him. They want Bailey the Mailman to help deal with the people who killed Minister George Flavio. Tsk… too bad he's dissappeared. They'll be shocked when they realize the man they're chasing might be tangled in their own paranoia. But tell me—do you think this guy is the same one, the chick who attacked you that night? Or is Bailey just another alias those scoundrels use for their grim reapers?"
Daniel did not reply. His fingers drummed against the desk, slow and deliberate. His crimson eyes burned with thought, but his silence was heavier than words.
The room grew tense, the air thick with unease.
"How long has he been missing?" He asked
"Mmm....around a week or so, maybe." Replied Blake.
Daniel remained silent for a while, pondering on his thoughts.
"How convenient that Bailey the Mailman goes missing right around the time the Bridal Selection competition begins," Daniel muttered.
"You think that… she's one of your future brides?" Blake asked, his tone sly.
Daniel's crimson eyes flicked toward him briefly before he looked away.
Blake whistled softly. "This is going to be very interesting. And I wonder who that could be…" He leaned back, a mischievous smile curling across his lips as he studied Daniel.
Daniel rolled his eyes, whispering under his breath. "Guess it's truly going to be interesting after all."
Inside, his thoughts burned with anticipation:
'Because only one woman fits the criteria. And I can't wait to play the game of cat and mouse with her. Truly can't wait.'
He lifted his glass, smirking as the brandy touched his lips.
This was going to be fun.